facets of regret

watching the barn door shut

upon the horses’ tails,
wishing for water
once the well has run dry

chocolate saved too long
until bitter on the tongue,
the acrid scent of milk
several days past its due

saying goodbye in the rain
and walking away,
only to spend your days
looking back


campfire smoke
wafts across my face –
gazing pensively into the fire
wishing for the one
who taught me to burn

how we communicate

This must be how it feels
to the tree alone
in the forest,
only the breeze to stroke
her leafy green hair,

to have limbs
rattle and shake,
as she bends or breaks
in the midst of the storm,
broken bits piled in heaps
or scattered
across the lawn,

to fall
and have no one
acknowledge the sound.

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